


both hands out, my i

by orphan_account



Series: adore u [2]
Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-12
Updated: 2017-08-12
Packaged: 2018-12-14 13:02:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,347
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11783706
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: (Jun blames his face.Objectively, it’s a nice face. Symmetrical, well-built, photogenic to the point where his selfies could be considered a new form of contemporary art. It’s his get-out-of-jail-free card at parties and a reliable coupon for the campus convenience store, but it’s also highly problematic because:1] The entire campus assumes he’s slept with everyone in a two-mile radius. And that’s— far from the truth. He’s only hooked up with three people, one of which was the student council vice president. (He’s still banned from all upcoming school functions.)2] The only person he actually wants to sleep with is Xu Minghao, and Jun’s better off asking for the moon. Just his luck that the one person completely immune to his good looks is the one he happens to fall for.)[Jun dances until his legs give out and reminds himself over and over that Minghao's too good for him. Minghao pulls him back up to his feet and keeps his mouth shut around the words he really wants to say. It's not the easiest combination, but just maybe, they'll make it work.]





	both hands out, my i

**Author's Note:**

> [covers face] this was not supposed to be posted until next week but then the mandarin my i happened and??? im a small china line stan and my heart is very, very full right now. celebrating my birthday by announcing my position as junhao trash, i guess 
> 
> thank you so much to everyone who kudosed/commented/bookmarked/made it through my meanie fic without scratching your own eyeballs out... all of you were so kind. i really hope you like this, my i killed me and i just... i really hope you like this. yeah.

Jun blames his face.

Objectively, it’s a nice face. Symmetrical, well-built, photogenic to the point where his selfies could be considered a new form of contemporary art. It’s his get-out-of-jail-free card at parties and a reliable coupon for the campus convenience store, but it’s also highly problematic because:

1] The entire campus assumes he’s slept with everyone in a two-mile radius. And that’s— far from the truth. He’s only hooked up with three people, one of which was the student council vice president. (He’s still banned from all upcoming school functions.)

2] The only person he actually wants to sleep with is Xu Minghao, and Jun’s better off asking for the moon. Just his luck that the one person completely immune to his good looks is the one he happens to fall for.

Jun’s current scenario— start of sophomore year— is a well-mixed blend of both of these things packed into one Kim Mingyu, Minghao’s two-year roommate and Jun’s fourth drunken one night stand. Mingyu is tall and pretty and works at the button of Jun’s jeans with an uncoordinated grace; Jun kisses him with a mouth that tastes of alcohol; and together they mess up the bedsheets that Minghao had painstakingly washed just two days ago.

At one point in the night, the door opens before immediately shutting with an irritated slam. Neither of them notice.

\---

Jun gets up first, his brain sloshing around a little in his skull before righting itself. He pulls on his jeans and the movement is enough to wake Mingyu, who sits up with a yawn and immediately groans, clutching his head.

Jun’s pictured this scenario before, but in his head the person in front of him is skinnier, lankier. In his head there are soft smiles and lazy morning cuddles, eyes curved into crescents and alarm clocks set to snooze just five more minutes. But the reality here is that it’s Mingyu, his face nothing short of absolutely confused, like he doesn’t know why the hell he woke up in some stranger’s bed at seven in the morning.

“You alright there?” Jun asks. Mingyu blinks at him with wide, unknowing eyes, his expression quickly going from sleepy confusion to mild distress.

“Holy crap,” he says in alarm, and Jun wonders what direction this will go. “What the hell did we do last night?”

Oh _shit_. “We got drunk and then you called me pretty and then we hooked up,” Jun says bluntly.

Mingyu lets out a tiny squeak; Jun can almost see the little wheels turning in his brain as he struggles to deal with this new information, and he fumbles a little for his next words. “Oh. Um... I’m not very well versed in one night stand etiquette, so uh, should I leave now? Or what?”

Jun smiles, a slight upturn of his mouth. “This is your dorm. If anyone’s leaving, it’d be me.”

Mingyu considers this, then, unsurely, “Okay, so— are you leaving?”

“I don’t know,” Jun lilts, tilting his head. “Are you kicking me out?”

“Um,” Mingyu says, biting his bottom lip. “You can stay? I’ll make pancakes.”

Jun debates for a second whether or not he should take up that offer. He’s never stayed for any of his other hookups, and he’s only really known Mingyu as Minghao’s clumsy roommate before, but Mingyu is interesting, is genuine in a way not many people are. And besides, Jun feels kind of _sick_. He didn’t get that drunk last night (he never gets that drunk anymore) but he was buzzed enough that the kinder part of his mind shut down. Mingyu shouldn’t have been roped into whatever twisted decision his incompetent heart had made. You’d think a year would’ve been enough for Jun to accept his state of pining, but apparently not. He’s still making the rookie mistakes.

In the end, the mixture of guilt and curiosity and promise of free food is enough to override his logical side— _the fuck are you doing now, Jun?_

“Pancakes sound good,” Jun says, and Mingyu nods, pulling on his shirt and heading off to the tiny kitchen. Jun pads off to the bathroom to wash his face, staying a little longer than strictly necessary because he’s not sure what to do.

Mingyu finishes up the pancakes in about ten minutes, a stack of fluffy golden circles, and he and Jun sit at the table and eat. Mingyu drowns his pancakes in convenience store syrup and takes small bites, and there’s this certain tension. Like both of them know they should say something but they’re not sure exactly what. Jun eventually can’t take it and says, “These are really good. You’re a good cook.”

Mingyu looks up. “Thanks. Um, I refused to accept freezer pancakes and this is what happened.” Another excruciating pause. “Uh. So.”

“So.”

“This is really weird,” Mingyu mumbles. “I think my brain’s broken. Sorry.”

“You’re good.”

Mingyu gives him a small smile, and then his phone rings from the back of his pants and they both freeze. Mingyu pulls it out and takes a look at the screen, promptly adopting a look of utter terror. “ _It’s Jisoo_.”

Jun gives a slow nod, not comprehending.

“I’ll explain later,” Mingyu sighs. “But the point is I gotta blast. Um, there’s two more pancakes in the pan if you want them? Thanks for putting up with me.”

Jun smiles. “Seriously, it’s fine. Thanks for the pancakes.”

“We should hang out sometime,” Mingyu says, words coming out in a rush. “Unless you want to pretend this entire shitfest didn’t happen—”

“No, no, let’s hang out,” Jun says. “Now go take your call.”

Mingyu beams at him before running out the door, his shirt inside out.

Jun divides his remaining pancake into seventeen bites, methodically sticking the pieces into his mouth one by one. He feels a little bad. Because yeah, Mingyu’s got this effervescence to him and Jun genuinely wants to talk to him again, but there’s nothing. There’s nothing but that ever-present wish that it’d been Minghao and his chest aches just a little bit more.

\---

Jun finds Minghao in the library a few hours later, viciously annotating post-it notes and sticking them to the pages of his textbook. His stomach twists in the way it always does when Jun first sees him, this little burst of anticipation even though he _knows_ nothing’s going to happen like nothing ever happens, and this knot that yanks just a little bit tighter because he always forgets how good Minghao looks always. Jun takes a few steps forward and Minghao looks up, and _shit_ , that’s not his bland default expression, this one’s annoyed and hard and it’s directed at _Jun_ —

Minghao walks over, seizes Jun’s wrist, and drags him out of the library.

“That was more of you and Mingyu than I ever needed to see in my _entire life_ ,” Minghao says, once they’ve rounded the corner of the hallway. Jun feels his stomach drop to the floor. “I’m having nightmares for the next month.”

“Oh, shit,” Jun says, horror dawning on him as he fully processes the words. “Um. Did you—“ _walk in_?

Minghao stares at him with dead eyes. “Yes. Sometime around midnight. You two were preoccupied” — Jun feels the remains of his soul leave his body— “and didn’t notice.”

Jun covers his face with his hands. Just another thing his drunk self had overlooked: by the transitive property of stupidity, hooking up at Mingyu’s place entailed hooking up at _Minghao’s_ place. “You found a place to crash, right?” he finally asks, unable to really form any other coherent sentences.

“Hmm? Oh, yeah, I slept over at Seungcheol’s.” That makes sense; Seungcheol’s flat is like, the unofficial safe haven for the sexiled. “Jeongguk and Yugyeom were there, too. Must’ve been a wild party.”

Minghao’s mouth is still pressed into a tight line, his walking pace a little too fast for comfort. Jun feels very, very small. “I’m sorry,” he says. “I owe you.”

“You don’t owe me anything. A heads-up would’ve been nice, but it’s okay. I can deal.” And here, Minghao finally stops, whirling around to stare Jun down with a hard look. “But, _Mingyu_. Just swear you won’t mess around with him.”

“I won’t,” Jun promises. His mouth dries up like sand paper.

“I’m serious. He told me you were really nice and just— if you fuck him up, I’ll have to take sides, and it might not be yours this time, you know?”

Jun nods, one, two, his chest feeling like it’s been blown out by bullet holes. He stares hard at the ground and lets Minghao walk away, wondering exactly what kind of hole he’s digging himself into, wondering why he always fucks up so bad.

\---

Jun finds out that Mingyu works at the local coffee shop, _1997_ , and he gathers up his guts on Saturday and heads over with his fingers crossed and his stomach threatening to turn itself inside out. _Don’t mess this up._ When he pushes the door open, he immediately sees Mingyu standing behind the counter in a navy blue apron, a little bit too tall for the cash register, ringing people up with a cheerful smile. Mingyu spots Jun in line and beams. “Jun!”

“Hi,” Jun says, awkward. His skin feels too tight. He looks at Mingyu’s bright smile and tries to be blinded, stares at the way he fidgets with his apron strings and tries to find it cute.

“My break’s in half an hour,” Mingyu tells him, and two meters behind him in line Jun can already hear the wheels of the rumor mill turning. “What’s your order?”

“Just a small Americano, thanks,” Jun says, and Mingyu punches a couple of buttons and gestures for the next person in line to step up. Jun gets the Americano with a small paper bag containing two cream puffs, the words _on the house_ scribbled on the side in black Sharpie. He takes the food off the counter and sits down at a corner table, getting out his chemistry homework. Seventeen problems later, Mingyu slides into the seat opposite of him with a nervous little smile on his face.

Jun twists his pencil around his fingers. “Hey,” Mingyu says.

“Hey,” Jun says back. “Thanks for the cream puffs.”

Mingyu smiles, eyes crinkling up at the sides. “Don’t mention it. I’m just trying to get you to forget our last encounter. I swear I’m usually not that incompetent.”

Jun raises a teasing brow. “Usually?”

“ _Stop_ , I’m trying to make a good second impression here,” Mingyu whines, and Jun takes a sip of his coffee and laughs.

“Ah, don’t let me keep you from that.” Jun smiles, and the atmosphere around them lightens considerably. “Did everything go okay with your friend, by the way? You looked pretty worried over there when you ran out.”

Mingyu looks confused for a second before his expression melts into one of understanding. “Jisoo? Yeah, it went fine. But basically what went down was—“ and here, he stutters to a stop, like he’s not really sure. “Um— do you wanna hear what happened? Or is that boring?”

Jun can see Mingyu testing the waters of their conversation, testing the rhythm of their back and forth, and it makes the knot in Jun’s chest loosen a little bit.

“No, tell me, it sounds cool,” Jun says, genuine, and Mingyu relaxes.

“Okay, usually, I don’t drink, for reasons, and neither does Jisoo, for other reasons. So what happens is that we’re like— the default designated drivers?”

“That’s a hell of an alliteration,” Jun comments.

“I wish it were on purpose, but I’m failing in literature class.” Mingyu laughs. “So yeah, I got drunk because I bombed a test— if you couldn’t tell at this point, I’m kind of a mess— and Jisoo ended up having to round up five drunk guys all by himself.”

“Wow.”

Mingyu winces. “This is probably not raising your opinion of me, is it?”

“No, not really,” Jun says, but in a way that allows Mingyu to know that Jun’s opinion of him was already pretty high in the first place. “Anything else?”

“Eh, there’s nothing much, actually. Hansol stole a stop sign, but he does that every other time he gets drunk. Jisoo wasn’t that mad.” Mingyu runs a hand through his hair. “He can never get mad.”

“Yeah, I heard that about him from Minghao.” Jun flinches at the sound of Minghao’s name falling from his mouth; he wants to kick himself. But Mingyu doesn’t know anything’s wrong, he’s just glad for the common ground between the two of them.

“We’ve got a weirdly interconnected social circle. I’m kind of surprised we haven’t talked that much before,” Mingyu muses. “I just knew you as Minghao’s friend.”

“And I just knew you as Minghao’s roommate.”

“… And the guy who freaked out on you after a hookup.”

“Aren’t you trying to erase that label?” Jun asks jokingly, glad for the swerve in conversation.

“I think, at this point, it’s a lost cause.” Mingyu points a plastic coffee-stirrer at him. “I kind of just ranted to you about my drunken mishaps. You’re ridiculously easy to talk to.”

That’s not something anyone’s said to Jun before, but he keeps his face neutral. “I guess that’s good, since like…”

Mingyu tilts his head. “What?”

There it is, the precipice of what is possibly the world’s most jackass decision. _Try. Don’t mess with him_. And Jun really, really doesn’t want to— Mingyu has a bright demeanor and a kind tone of voice and Jun wouldn’t mind falling for him. He wants to fall for him.

Jun takes an awkward sip of his drink, the now-lukewarm coffee threatening to go down the wrong pipe as he feebly gestures with his hand. _Now or never_. He gets the vague sensation of clumsily falling off a diving board as he mumbles, “Um, so, Minghao said—“

Mingyu closes his eyes. “This will go nowhere good.”

“No, um, he said that like. You might. Want to date me?”

Mingyu’s eyes snap open, and he nearly falls off his chair. “Oh— that—yeah” — great, now they’re _both_ stuttering messes— “Uh, I don’t know how Minghao phrased it, but I kinda just threw that out there.”

Jun says, “He told me I _better not mess this up._ ” He deepens his voice, over-imitating Minghao’s threatening tone.

“Minghao’s terrifying,” Mingyu grumbles. His cheeks are flushed a pretty shade of pink. “But yeah, I guess I wanna do go out with you. Just like, to try? Because you’re hot and kind and also really funny, and just. It might go somewhere, you never know.”

Jun quirks his mouth up in a smile. Minghao’s words are suddenly less of a weight in his mind; Mingyu doesn’t seem to have any serious _feelings_ , and he’s easy to talk to and Jun thinks that maybe he could learn to like this boy. “So,” Jun says, testing the words out on his tongue. “You— like me. And want to go out.”  

“I haven’t decided about _like_ , but the second part, yes.”

“Then sure,” Jun says, sliding his phone over to Mingyu, contact page open. “Let’s give it a shot.”

\---

 **mingyu:** you free tonight?

 **me:** yeah… you got any ideas?

 **mingyu:** lol there’s nothing good around campus

 **mingyu:** there’s this small restaurant that’s not too overpriced tho

 **me:** we’re in college everything’s too overpriced

 **mingyu:** v true but wanna go anyway

 **me:** lol yeah sure

 **me:** let’s go

They get their food in take-out boxes because the portion sizes are larger, even though they’re eating in. Jun picks a couple vegetables out of his noodles to even out the ratio; he’s got no problem with white cabbage, but there’s just so _much_ of it in here.

“What’s your major?” Mingyu asks. He’s demolished half the box already.

“Business,” Jun says, but tacks on, “but I came to Pledis for the dance program.” He’d majored in business to appease his family— it was the only way they’d ignore the fact that the name of the college was _Pledis Performing Arts University_.

“I cannot _believe_ ,” Mingyu says, pulling a mock-offended face around a piece of chicken. “Everyone I know is disgustingly talented. Leave me alone.”

Jun laughs at that. “Trust me, I’m not that good.” Mingyu mouths, _you’re probably lying_ , and Jun shakes his head. “So what do you major in, then?”

“Advertising,” Mingyu says. “Apparently, I’m a very convincing person.”

“Yeah?”  

“No. I lose to Minghao in arguments every. Single. Time.” Mingyu punctuates his point with little stabs of his fork before taking a vicious bite of broccoli.

And Jun wants to say something about how he’ll cave to Minghao ten times out of ten, but he doesn’t because (1) that just sounds whipped and (2) … he’s supposed to be on a date with Mingyu. And the sad truth is that Mingyu brings up Minghao because he’s pertinent to the conversation, but Jun brings up Minghao because he’s in over his head and wants to talk about him all the time.

It’s not a fair fight.

So instead, Jun smirks and says, “You must be at least _somewhat_ convincing, because you got me to come here with you.”

“Smooth,” Mingyu says approvingly. “Maybe I should put that on my portfolio. Extra credit.”

“You should include a picture of me,” Jun laughs. “You’ll get the points for sure.” He frames his face with his hands, delights in the way Mingyu scoffs and says _everyone I know is handsome, you’re not special_.

It’s nice, flirting. Jun can do that. He pays for Mingyu’s meal and holds the door for him on the way out because he is a _good date, dammit, despite the fact they’re at a shitty restaurant called Fronting and he spent maybe ten percent of the time thinking about someone else._ He’s working on it. He is.

“Can I kiss you?” Mingyu asks, when they’re back at his dorm. “Or is that like…”

Jun raises an eyebrow. “I’d like to point out that our first actual interaction involved you putting your dick in my mouth. Go ahead.”

“… Good point.” And with that, Mingyu leans in.

Kissing Mingyu is nice. Mingyu doesn’t have much experience, but contrary to popular belief, neither does Jun. And it definitely does _something_ — it doesn’t feel platonic, at least— but Jun can’t tell whether he likes it because he’s doing it with Mingyu or if he just likes kissing itself.

A few seconds later, Mingyu pulls back. He winks. “See you around.”

Jun winks back, swallowing. “Yeah.”

\---

Jun and Mingyu are at the two-week checkpoint of whatever they have and Jun allows himself to believe that he’s not screwing this up. Minghao hasn’t killed him for breaking his roommate’s heart yet and conversation between Jun and Mingyu flows smoothly and Jun thinks that maybe he’s doing this right. Right now, he and Mingyu are sitting on the couch watching _Goblin_ , their hands overlapped on the cushion. Jun turns every few minutes or so to whisper witty commentary into Mingyu’s ear or feed him popcorn. Episode 5 ends, the credits roll, and Mingyu says into the silence, “We should break up.”

 _What_.

Jun presses pause and flips on the lights. “What?”

Minghao’s expression is nervous and a little bit sorrowful when he says, “We should—”

“No, no, I heard you the first time,” Jun says, waving his hand, thoughts scrambling to pick themselves off the floor and form cohesive conclusions. Mingyu bites his mouth, looking alarmingly like he did when he first woke up with Jun two weeks ago, and Jun hastily adds, “don’t freak out. I’m not mad. Just surprised? And confused.”

Mingyu releases a breath. “Yeah, I figured you wouldn’t be, but you know. There’s always the chance. Um. And I didn’t, like, break your heart, right?”

Jun considers this for a moment, although deep down, he already knows the answer perfectly well.  “No, you didn’t. Just, can I ask why?”

Mingyu shrugs. “There’s your answer. I don’t have feelings for you, and I’m pretty sure you don’t have feelings for me. That’s why.”

“I’m sorry,” Jun winces—

“No, bro, you’re good. We were just trying something out, anyway,” Mingyu says, and Jun nods, awkward. He moves his gaze over to the television screen, and they stay like that for a couple seconds, not saying anything.

“Do you want me to leave?” Jun asks.

Mingyu squints. “Why would I want that?”

“I don’t know,” Jun says, “in all the movies people need space after they break up.”

“Yeah, well, I’m pretty sure this isn’t the movies,” Mingyu says dryly. “We’re staying friends, right? Because you’re awesome and I like talking to you.”

Jun grins. “Yeah, of course. We always _were_ friends. Just like, with kissing involved.”

“And unintentional sex,” Mingyu adds. “We should probably stop those things, though. I mean, you’re a great kisser but it’s not worth it.” Jun laughs.

Jun really isn’t upset. Not even close to it. He’s a little relieved; dating Mingyu was nice, but only because Mingyu was nice, and the kissing and holding hands part was nice, but not necessarily in combination. And he’s also a little bit offended, because breaking up isn’t good for his pride no matter _what_ scenario. Jun asks, “Wanna watch another episode of Goblin? I’m invested now, fuck you.”

“I _know_ right? It’s such a good show,” Mingyu says. He moves to grab the remote but his hand hesitates over the play button. “Actually, uh. I wanna ask you a question.”

“Shoot.”

“Do you like Minghao?”

Jun freezes. His left eye twitches in what might look like a sexy wink but really is just him internally spazzing out. He debates over saying no, but Mingyu at least deserves this. “Am I really that obvious?”

Mingyu grins wryly. “A little. Don’t worry about it, though, I’m not upset. And I won’t tell.”

“Okay, just, though,” Jun rambles, “it was a shitty move to go out with you while that’s a thing, but, I really did want to like you. This sounds so bad, I’m sorry. But you’re a great person and I don’t know what’s wrong with me—”

Mingyu waves a dismissive hand. “I don’t fault you. Actually, I kinda do. But only because it’s _Minghao_ — like, come on. That guy hates me.”

“Aren’t you one of his best friends?”

“But he also hates me,” Mingyu whines jokingly, right before his voice turns serious. “Seriously, Jun, you’re fine, okay? I hope he likes you back.”

“Okay,” Jun says, squirming. _Not a chance_. “Let’s please just watch the next episode.”

\---

Jun meets Minghao when he is fifteen. He’s not Jun then, caught between the precipice of _Wen Junhui_ and _Moon Joonhwi_ , sporting a mouth full of braces and a face full of teenage acne. He moved to Korea a few weeks ago and kind of hates it. He’s not stupid by any means, but it’s hard digesting the information in his classes when it’s not in his native language, and it’s hard talking to people with his clumsy pronunciation and prominent accent.

Jun is busy trying to translate what his teacher had assigned for homework when he crashes into someone. His papers go flying all over the place in a whirl of white and black.

“I’m so sorry,” Jun babbles, except he says it in Mandarin and stutters and accidentally repeats himself five times. A few drops of spit fly out of his mouth and land on the boy’s shirt. To his left, someone snickers at their interaction.

“It’s okay,” the other boy replies, neutral, picking up his books and pushing his hair out of his face.

Jun is so busy internally cursing himself out that he only realizes that the boy had replied in _Mandarin_ fifteen minutes after he walked off.

\---

It’s ten minutes into history class when a note is slid onto Jun’s desk.

_Hi. - Minghao_

Jun swivels around and—oh. It’s the boy from the hallway. Jun hadn’t realized that they had a class together, but then again, he’s been trying to keep his head down. He fumbles around in his backpack for a pen and writes back, _Hi, nice to meet you. - Junhui._ The Chinese characters are blocky and calming and familiar. There’d been a moment when Jun had wondered if he should put down _Joonhwi_ but the name _Minghao_ isn’t Korean either.

 _This class is really boring…_ Minghao writes back, drawing a small face for emphasis.

 _I don’t understand anything the teacher is saying, so same_ , Jun writes. The lecture is too rapid-fire for him to properly translate. Minghao stares at the paper with a small furrow in his brow before writing what appears to be a copious amount of words. Jun’s worried— is this a speech on how lame Jun is or something?

The note, however, comes back with several bullet points that summarize the lecture, along with a _Did you just move here? I can translate if you want._

Jun stares at the note with wide eyes. _I actually owe you my life right now. And yeah, two weeks ago. My mom just got a job here._

 _I came here when I was ten. And it’s no problem…_ More notes on the lecture. Jun wonders if Minghao is some kind of angel with pierced ears and blue jeans.

Jun is about to write back when he realizes that the entire classroom is staring at him, teacher included, an unimpressed expression on her face. “Seo Myungho and Moon Joonhwi. Hand it over.”

Jun does. The teacher glances at it and the expression on her face looking at the blocky Mandarin characters is _priceless_. When she assigns them both detention, Jun finds that he really can’t bring himself to care.

\---

He and Minghao become friends. It’s inevitable, with the way Minghao passes him translated notes every day in history and makes an effort to talk to him after class, and Jun is grateful.

They eat lunch together in the corner of the cafeteria and text each other memes from the bathroom and it takes a grand total of two weeks for them to hang out somewhere outside of school. They live in the same neighborhood, something smoggy and crowded and rusty, and Minghao shows him over to a tiny Chinese convenience store crammed between two equally tiny Korean ones.

Half of everything is in Mandarin and it makes something in Jun ache less badly.

“All the stuff is really cheap,” Jun notes.

“And shitty,” Minghao adds, “but it’s a convenience store, so what’s new?” He pulls a half-melted lychee pop out of the freezer, the kind that splits in half like chopsticks, and hands one of the sticks to Jun. They pay with pocket money and head outside to eat.

Minghao feels like home. Maybe that’s why it begins but after awhile it stops being about the fact that Minghao is also Chinese and more about Minghao _himself_ , this kid who’s blunt and kind and shares Jun’s obsession with dancing. And Jun wishes he could be as comfortable as Minghao in his own skin. But he’s getting there; Korean starts to feel more natural on his tongue and he stops needing Minghao to translate for him on the lectures, and he still hasn’t made that many friends but that’s okay. He has someone to study with and share lychee popsicles with and that’s really all he needs.

Minghao is the one who gives him the name _Jun_.

\---

A fact about Minghao: his discipline is unparalleled. Procrastination is not in his dictionary, and the resulting guilt that comes from hanging out with him is enough to make Jun put down his phone and take out his math homework.

Jun’s mom loves Minghao. He’s quiet and polite and speaks flawless Mandarin and Jun’s a little scared that she’s going to call Minghao’s parents soon and ask if they can switch sons. But it works out pretty well because it means she lets Minghao basically live in their crappy apartment complex. They hang out in Jun’s room with their books spread out all over the floor, using every available surface _except_ the desk as viable study area.

Currently, Minghao’s sprawled halfway off the bed, and Jun’s got his face pressed against the rug. The clock reads 12:12 AM. It’s hard being in love with dance; it’s not the most compatible with academics, which means they frequently end up staying up late trying to juggle between the two.

“Hey,” Minghao says. He yawns, throwing down his pencil from where he’s copying down paragraphs. “Wanna go take a roof break?”

Jun peels his eyes open. Usually, it’s Jun that cracks first and asks to stop studying, but there are exceptions. This is one. “Sure.”

They head out into the hall of the apartment complex and climb the fire escape to sit out on the roof. The sky is a sheet of dark black and looks so close, like Jun could gently roll the moon out of its position in space and cradle it in the palm of his hand if he wanted to. It’s like he can see the entire world from up here.

“This is the only reason I’m friends with you,” Minghao says. “For your roof.”

“I’ll push you off the goddamn edge,” Jun threatens, smiling.

“Nah, you wouldn’t.” Minghao’s tone is serene and Jun thinks, _yeah, I wouldn’t._

Jun sits cross-legged and Minghao rests his head on Jun’s thigh. “How long do you wanna stay up here for?” Jun asks.

“Forever,” Minghao mumbles, eyes closed.

Jun suppresses a laugh. “A more reasonable option?”

“Shut the fuck up and let me sleep,” Minghao grumbles, pressing his hand over his face. Jun hums and lets him, but not even an entire minute has passed before Minghao sits up and says, “you can’t just _let me sleep_ , you dick, we have homework.”

“You’re sending mixed signals,” Jun protests.

“Yeah— well— fine, in answer to your previous question, let’s stay up here for twenty minutes? I’ve got maybe another two hours of work to do.”

Jun’s eyebrows shoot up. He’s almost done, and had assumed Minghao had been too. “Wait, really? Jeez. Do you want me to stay up with you?”

“No, you need to sleep so you can take my notes during history tomorrow while _I_ sleep,” Minghao says, no real bite to his words. “The prof already hates me, anyway.”

“Why do you even have so much homework?” Jun asks.

“Don’t even get me started,” Minghao groans. “I have to this project with these two guys, Chungae and Daeshim or whatever, and they’ve done literally nothing and it’s due tomorrow. I’d let them tank but you know, I need an A.”

“I’ll fight them.”

“With _those_ arms?” Minghao says, raising an eyebrow. Jun shoves him. “It’s fine. I’ll just let them stutter through the presentation tomorrow.”

Jun knows that Minghao will probably end up sharing his notecards anyway, but he doesn’t say that. Instead, he just looks out into the vast expanse of night and wishes he could stay here forever like Minghao had jokingly suggested. Jun likes nights. He doesn’t have to worry about conversing in Korean or people making fun of his accent. He likes sitting up here while the rest of the town is asleep and it’s just him and Minghao at the top of the world.

“Do you ever…” and here, Minghao trails off, voice soft. (A fact about Xu Minghao: he looks soft but isn’t.) “Think about _that_?”

He gestures off into the distance.

“You’re going to have to be a little more specific.”

“Fuck you,” Minghao says. “But you know, we always talk about going to Seoul and getting out of here. Do you wonder if they’re— different? There?”

_Do you wonder if there are people who care more about popularity and grades, who don’t care about who you love or your heavy accent? Who will grind themselves to the bone like us trying to reach dreams that may never be realized?_

It’s not something accepted here, wanting to become a dancer. Wanting to get into _Pledis Performing Arts University._ They’re sixteen and people at their school are narrow-minded assholes that make Minghao stay up until midnight and Jun feel like he’s stuck in quicksand, and he agrees. He does wonder if people out there are different. He wants it so badly.

“Whatever,” Minghao says, finally. “We should go back inside.”

He turns and climbs off the roof and Jun follows. Because wherever Xu Minghao goes, he will go too.

\---

It’s summer before junior year and Jun is hot.

Like, not just temperature wise, although that too. His shirts stick to his skin and his black hair becomes a sweaty liability. But also in the slang sense.

The baby fat melts off his cheeks and his skin tans into a warm gold, the braces finally taken out of his mouth and his limbs filling out into their desired proportions. Looking in the mirror is a curious but not unpleasant experience; he’ll catch himself gazing at his reflection and wondering if he’s now considered attractive.

“You’re not,” is Minghao’s firm stance on it. “Stop checking yourself out.”

(Minghao is cute too, although Jun’s always seen him that way, those big eyes and skinny build and wan smile.)

But it gets weird when school starts because all of a sudden, Jun’s this _commodity_. Suddenly his accent is _sexy_ and his hair is _cool_ and his smile is _gorgeous_. This one girl in his class stutters through asking him for a pencil and blushes bright red when he hands her one. Jun’s not stupid. He knows what that’s about. He doesn’t know how to feel about it, though. He knows it’s for something as superficial as his looks, but the attention feels nice to some small part of him buried deep down. He patents a smirk and a wink and says words butter-smooth that make Minghao ask him if he’s in some kind of crappy drama.

And Jun throws an arm around Minghao and says, “Any drama I’m in wouldn’t be crappy.”

Minghao rolls his eyes. “With those lines? It absolutely is. Hire a different scriptwriter.” And Jun pouts and Minghao hands Jun half of the granola bar he got from the vending machine and they head off to class like they always do.

\---

Maybe the fatal mistake is giving in.

Everyone knows that the prettiest girl in the grade is Seo Jinae, with braids that waterfall down her back and a facial structure like a fanservice anime character. She taps Jun on the arm in the hallway on Thursday while he’s getting his books out of his locker and asks, “Do you want to go out with me?”

And oh god, _everyone’s staring_. Jun’s maybe a little dazzled by her brightness so the word “yes” falls out of his mouth. Jinae beams and touches his arm, and suddenly everyone in the school now knows that Seo Jinae is dating Moon Joonhwi. It’s surreal.

What happens after that, though, is this: he’s irrevocably in Jinae’s sphere now. He’s supposed to eat lunch with her and walk her to her classes and take her out for study sessions at this cute little bubble tea place off Main Street.

Jinae’s interesting. She’s got a personality along with her looks and Jun can’t say he minds hanging out with her, although he’s significantly less productive than he is with Minghao, and when she kisses him with a mouth that tastes like vanilla chapstick Jun doesn’t dislike it at all. But when she gets sick one day and doesn’t come to school, Jun feels a guilty sense of relief. He catches Minghao by the gates during last period and Minghao looks at him with a questioning gaze, one hand hooked around his backpack strap.

“Hey,” Jun says. “Wanna go get lychee pops at Chen’s? I’ll pay.”

Minghao fiddles with his shirt. “Don’t you have to hang out with Jinae?”

The words fall between them like a stone. It’s like Minghao had meant for it to be a perfectly innocuous question but it’d shot out loaded with meaning. “I—” Jun says, the word catching in his throat. “She’s sick today.”

“Oh.” He makes that one word sound dubious.

“Are you mad?” Jun asks, panicking. “Did I drop off the radar because of a girlfriend?”

 _A girlfriend_ , not _my girlfriend_. Jun had been trying to keep firm boundary lines between his time with her and his time with Minghao, still crashing over at his apartment and getting food at the vendors and sneaking out to dance exhibits, but maybe he’d failed.

“No, you didn’t,” Minghao snaps, his tone sharp and bitter. Coffee grounds glass. “It was just a question.”

“Minghao—” and he hates how small his voice is here, how badly he wants Minghao to smooth back over into his calm unruffled self. “I can break up with her, if you want?” _Where’d that come from_?

“The hell?” Minghao says, voice high-pitched and strange. “I wouldn’t ask you to do that! I— don’t _want_ you to do that!”

“Yeah, but if I end up ignoring you because of a girl that’d be shitty and against whatever bro code we’ve got going on here.”

“You— you’re not _ignoring me_ ,” Minghao retorts. He takes a deep breath, runs a hand through his hair. “I don’t like giving you compliments, but you’re doing a good job of splitting up your time, okay? I don’t know why I’m being weird.”

“Okay,” Jun says.

“Okay.”

There’s a sullen, awkward silence before Minghao hesitantly says, “Truce?”

“Truce.”

“Good,” Minghao says, and his voice goes back to normal. “Now let’s go get your goddamn lychee pops.”

“Hey, you like them too!”

“That’s besides the point,” Minghao says airily, sticking his nose into the air. It’s like their weird fight hadn’t happened at all and Jun nearly can’t breathe from the overwhelming relief that crashes against his ribcage.

\---

At the end of the year, there’s a party for the graduating seniors, and the upper end of the junior social hierarchy is invited too. Jinae’s going, which means Jun’s expected to go, which means dragging a reluctant Minghao along because Jun is actually nowhere as cool as he’d like people to think. He tells his parents that he’s staying over at Minghao’s and they don’t question it at all.

He and Minghao head over to the party at eight; Minghao is wary and nervous and has his arms crossed over his chest like a shield. Jun can hear the music a block away and there’s already several beer bottles littered out on the lawn. It’s the kind of party that might end in getting busted by the police, the kind of party he sees in movies, and he doesn’t really want to be here but goes in anyway.

“This place is so loud,” Minghao comments. “How long are we staying again?”

Jun shrugs, uncomfortable. “Until midnight, I guess?” That sounded reasonable.

Minghao stares out at the room in disgust, says, “I’d rather be doing calculus right now. Hell, I’d rather eat my own leg.” He proceeds to maneuver himself into a small corner of the room and vanish into the shadows. “Join me if you want.”

Jun does not get the chance. Jinae shows up in a silvery tank top, and Jun takes his cues from his surroundings, dancing with her for a while to headache-inducing music and making out against a faded flowery couch. Someone passes around booze and shot glasses and everyone is looking so Jun drinks. The liquor burns its way down his throat.

Jun’s never been drunk before but half an hour later, everything is light and airy and amazing. He’s getting roped into some kind of game, a modified version of truth or dare, and he’s happy to play. Jun sits on the couch and listens, Jinae’s thigh against his.

“Joonhwi,” a boy says. (No one else calls him by his Chinese name.) “Truth or dare?”

“Dare,” Jun says, flashing a confident smile. The world is bright and spinning and he can take whatever is thrown at him.

“Kiss that guy over there,” someone shouts, and points to a figure huddled in the corner. _Minghao_. He looks up at the mention and almost immediately looks down again, folding into his sweatshirt like he wants to disappear.

Nevermind. Anything but this.

“Isn’t that Myungho?” a girl says, dark hair pulled into a severe ponytail and tone the verbal equivalent to a mocking eyebrow raise. “Weird Chinese kid Jun’s always with?”

“He never talks,” someone else adds, and there’s a chorus of laughter at that statement. A ring of metal pulls around Jun’s chest, tightening until he can’t breathe.

Jinae, next to him, rolls her eyes. “God, don’t make Joonhwi kiss _him_ , pick something different.” She looks at him like he’s supposed to agree, but Jun stays there, unmoving, unsteady eyes trained on where Minghao’s got his knees pulled up and his head down.

“Jinae, you just don’t want your boyfriend kissing someone else,” a girl giggles.

“That’s not true, I—” and then the other girl leans over to Jun and clumsily mashes her mouth against his, clearly drunk out of her mind. She tastes like beer and Jun’s instinct reaction is to kiss her back, and maybe two seconds pass before she’s brutally yanked off of him and people are yelling _what the fuck_ and _OMG_ and Jinae’s saying something or other that Jun can’t comprehend.

He somehow gets out of the house and stumbles into the backyard. It’s far past midnight, somewhere around two, and he’s going to have _so_ many issues to contend with tomorrow, but right now he just needs to get home. The world is swimming and he can barely walk in a straight line.

“Hey,” a voice says, slipping an arm around his shoulders. Jun tries to turn around and nearly keels over on the ground. Minghao sighs. “I’ve got you.”

“I’m sorry,” Jun slurs.

“I’m a little pissed off, sure, but we can sort that out later when you’re not drunk,” Minghao says. “Our apartment’s two blocks away and I don’t know if you can understand me right now but try not to throw up on me, alright?”

Jun tries to get his legs to move. “I should’ve kissed you,” he mumbles incoherently.

Minghao stiffens. “You are so drunk. _So_ drunk.”

“Yeah but I’m an asshole,” Jun singsongs, “you should dump me on the street.” His words are coming out in a weird mix of Chinese and Korean. Huh.

“You’re not dying in a ditch on my watch,” Minghao says firmly. Jun starts mumbling about this one Chinese sitcom he hopes gets taken off hiatus and Minghao _mhms_ along, focusing on not tripping over the curb.

He’s yanked up three flights of stairs and dropped off into bed. Minghao’s eyes are sort of red like he might be crying a little, but Jun’s too drunk to fixate on it right now and passes out almost as soon as his head hits the mattress.

\---

Jun wakes up to a bulldozer plowing its way through his head, but he manages to pull himself out of bed and go downstairs to eat breakfast. Neither of his parents are there, which is good, since he nearly vomits around the glass of milk he chokes down.

School is awful. The only consolation is that it’s the last day and he won’t have to face any of his classmates for an entire summer; Jinae breaks up with him and starts crying when all he offers is a monotone _okay_ in response. Minghao is there, but he doesn’t look at him. Jun doesn’t push it. The memories from last night are kind of blurry, but he remembers enough to understand that he was a grade-A asshole. He hefts his backpack up and walks home alone.

\---

Summer rolls in hot and muggy, skies swollen with heavy rain clouds that stubbornly remain rooted in the atmosphere. Jun starts his summer job at the convenience store, stocking shelves and carting in shipments when they arrive. It’s a little bit boring but Jun likes it nonetheless.

One day the skies finally burst open and Jun is thoroughly drenched by the resulting torrent, trying to shield the cardboard boxes with his body so at least they won’t get wet. He changes into dry clothes, and when he emerges out of the smelly bathroom, he sees Minghao standing against one of the freezer doors.

His face is wiped carefully blank. Jun freezes. There’s a painful moment when the world is set on pause and neither of them move.

“Hi,” Jun finally says, his voice coming out all cracked. “What are you doing here?”

“My mom needed some milk,” Minghao says back. He’s holding a wet umbrella in one of his hands, dressed in a light blue t-shirt, dark hair falling softly over his forehead. He opens the freezer door, turning away from Jun. “I didn’t know you worked here.”

“I just started a week ago,” Jun says, small, and then he internally slaps himself and reigns in every single bit of willpower he has. “I’m— really sorry. I was a dick for doing everything at that party and making you drag me home, and Jinae broke up with me the next day, and honestly I’m kind of a piece of shit and it’s okay if you don’t want anything to do with me anymore, but you deserved an apology.”

The words spill out of him, ugly and unrelenting and raw. Minghao keeps his face turned away, overly fixated on selecting milk despite the fact he always gets the same kind. “Jun,” he finally says, and Jun holds his breath. “I’m not mad. I mean I guess I kinda was before, but I’m fine now. You don’t need to apologize.”

Jun’s entire body threatens to melt into a puddle of relief, and the only sound that comes out of his mouth is a watery “Wh.”

Minghao shrugs. “You were drunk and everyone else was being an ass. What you did was shitty, but you know. We’re still friends. Got it?”

“... Yeah.” And Jun can tell that despite the fact Minghao’s face is more closed off than usual that his words are genuine. Maybe Jun hasn’t forgiven himself yet, and maybe the hurt will take some time to erase, but that’s okay. Minghao helps Jun restock shelves while waiting for the rain to let up, and they split the small candy circles that Minghao had in his pocket. Outside, the sidewalks are drenched heavy with water. The skies turn a brilliant shade of blue.  

\---

Jun cuts his hair and fades into the background senior year, like some particularly pretty wallflower. He doesn’t go out with anyone, throwing himself into proving everyone wrong by making it into Pledis, and he does. So does Minghao.

It’s freshman year when Jun falls. The thing about Minghao is that he’s paradoxically layered; looks soft but isn’t but is. It’s hard to explain. It’s like he wears a decoy heart on his sleeve, and underneath that is a structure of iron and diamond and concrete, and then inside his chest is his real heart as warm and vulnerable as anyone’s. Minghao doesn’t show it very often, though.

But one day it’s spring and Minghao is wearing a bucket hat and Pledis sweatshirt, and Jun is with him. And there’s this _dog_. It’s the actual cutest dog ever, and that’s saying a lot. Fluffy brown fur and big eyes and a wagging tail. Minghao lets out a small scream and runs over to it, asking the owner what its name is and plopping cross-legged down on the grass so that he can play with it. Jun watches, hesitant and bemused, and then the sun splits from behind the clouds and like—

Something inside his chest shakes loose and clicks somewhere else. It’s like the air is knocked out of his lungs, and suddenly, Jun can’t breathe.

Minghao reluctantly gets up from the dog and walks back over. He’s got a small pout on his face and Jun works on not swallowing his entire tongue. Minghao misinterprets Jun’s internal crisis as judgement and says, “What? I like dogs!”

“I think you’ve made that pretty clear, yeah,” Jun says dryly. (And by dryly he means his mouth feels like the Sahara desert and the cool spring weather has somehow jumped up around ten or twenty degrees.)

“Dogs are so much better than humans,” Minghao sighs. “I hope I get reincarnated as one.”

Jun can see all that asphalt and metal clicking back into place, but at this point it’s too late. Jun’s too far gone. It’s like he’d gotten pushed onto the pavement with no viable cushion and all he can do is lie there bruised and scraped and want, want, want.

\---

After Mingyu, Jun’s second year of Pledis is relatively uneventful. He practices dancing. He pines. He hooks up with one girl, except it’s not really a hookup because she starts tearfully rambling about how she just wanted to prove she wasn’t asexual as soon as he gets her underwear off, and then Jun has to awkwardly pat her on the back and say that she’ll figure it out, don’t worry. Again, Jun’s got _no_ luck with hookups. Minghao finds it hilarious when he relays it though, piece by drunken piece. “Good to know the entire planet’s not in love with you.”

Another thing is that Mingyu meets Wonwoo, which is nothing short of downright hysterical. Jun feels like he’s in a sitcom, glad he’s a side character in this one, since his own shitfest of a drama got put on hiatus and never made it past episode three.

 **mingyu:** jun help

 **mingyu:** i like wonwoo???

 **me:** i had faith in you, i thought you’d realize this sooner

 **me:** i lost ten thousand won to minghao over this

 **me:** but man what is it with u and guys with reps

 **mingyu:** shut up this is serious what do i do

 **me:** drunkenly hook up with him then ask him out? it worked with me

 **mingyu:** clearly it did not since we are no longer dating

 **me:** o yea good point

 **mingyu:** lol

 **mingyu:** idk i can’t just do that though, with you there was nothing on the line

 **mingyu:** but i really like him and he’s my friend…

 **me:** i’d be offended but honestly i just feel bad for you

 **me:** we’re in the same boat now, welcome aboard

 **mingyu:** [traumatized emojis] [crying emojis] please no

 **me:** this is so incredibly rude i’m older than you

 **mingyu:** [tongue out emoji]

\---

December bleeds into January and Jun thinks maybe he’s okay where he is. On New Year’s, he doesn’t go to any party. He goes to the hair salon across the street from his house and asks the stylist to dye his hair a bright, unforgiving purple. No regrets.

The dance instructor doesn’t give them any room to breathe after break. She snaps her fingers after practice is over to indicate that she’s got news to tell them and they gather at the front of the room. Jun is sweaty and exhausted, his gray t-shirt soaked to the skin, and Minghao’s hair is plastered to his forehead as he takes a giant gulp of water.

“The end of the year exhibit is in about five months, but I’m giving you a heads-up about it now because unlike the winter showcase, there are a limited amount of spots.” Jun straightens up, eyes widening. “Another difference is that this class will be focusing on solo and partner acts _only_. No more than two people. This is something that you will be doing on your own time. Auditions are in May. Class dismissed.”

Minghao’s hand automatically finds its way around Jun’s wrist. Jun feels safe with his forearm encased by Minghao’s fingers— they’re a package deal. Neither of them will flounder inside the sea of talent alone, trying to fight their way to the spotlight.

“Hey,” someone says from behind them. Kwon Soonyoung.

During the winter showcase, Minghao, Jun, Soonyoung, and Chan had been one of the acts, arguably the _best_ dance act. They’d done it to an original song called Highlight and Soonyoung had made the choreography. Soonyoung is the best dancer in the entire school by a head and shoulder and also maybe half a torso, and Jun had been lowkey dazzled to work with him.

“Hey,” Jun says. Minghao’s fingers are warm.

“Did you get your hair dyed?” Soonyoung says. “Wait—”

Too late. “Nah, my hair just magically changed color over break.”

Soonyoung shakes his head. “Stupid question. But holy _shit_ dude, it looks amazing.”

“You’re one to talk,” Minghao says, and Soonyoung smiles. Jun privately thinks that Soonyoung is the human version of a campfire, his grin all warm and genuine and his hair this bright shade of orange flame. Inimitable.

“You guys are gonna be together for the exhibit?” Soonyoung asks, and Minghao and Jun nod. “No fair, you guys are half the talent in this entire class.”

Jun rolls his eyes. “If so, you’re the other three-quarters.” Soonyoung looks down, abashed, but not denying it. “You flying solo?”

“I think so,” Soonyoung says, in a way that’s decided. “I’ve been composing over break… I'm going to ask Ji— Woozi to help me with it. The one that did the tune for Highlight.”

Chan bounces over, and Soonyoung ruffles his hair. “Hey, it’s the winter squad! Anyway, what I was gonna say was— let’s all make it in.”

“You know it!” Chan says.

Minghao pumps up a fist. “Fighting!”

Soonyoung beams, says, “if you need any help with anything, text me,” and then he and Chan leave, talking about something or other.

Jun picks up his duffel bag off of the linoleum and slings it over his shoulder. He scrutinizes himself in the wall-length mirror; he looks _disgusting_.

Minghao tugs on his wrist. “Let’s go, I’m starving.”

“Same,” Jun says, as they walk out. “You wanna get takeout or nah?”

Minghao shakes his head. “Mingyu’s cooking, so I’m good.”

“I will never not be bitter over the fact that you got Mingyu as your roommate,” Jun grumbles. “He’s the entire husband package. Without the married part.”

“He’s a complete idiot,” Minghao says, but his tone is fond. “Anyway, you don’t get to be salty. You had your chance.”

“I’d like to point out that _he_ broke up with _me_?”

“Which was a good call,” Minghao retorts happily, and Jun pouts. “Don’t give me that _look_ , you didn’t really like him anyway.”

Whatever Jun was going to say dies in his throat. The topic of Kim Mingyu is like a bruise he doesn’t remember having until he pokes at a little too much, and really, it’s nothing to do with Mingyu himself. It’s the circumstances. Jun hates that he’ll never commit himself fully to anyone until he gets over his thing for Minghao, but Minghao doesn’t know that last part. He just thinks Jun’s a dick when it comes to romance.

“Soonyoung will make it into the exhibit for sure,” Minghao says thoughtfully. “We better match up. Time to break out my shitty choreographing skills.”

Jun snickers. “You act like you have a crush on him or something.”

Minghao shoves his shoulder. “I just admire his dance skills,” he snaps.  “And I’m nice to him because he’s not _you_. Or Mingyu.”

“Right, right,” Jun teases, although the entire joke is no longer funny, never was. Minghao doesn’t get to say anything back because they reach his dorm, and the conversation is dropped.

Jun walks the short distance to the dorm with the setting sun melting onto his shoulders, mind whirring. He and Minghao need to get into the exhibit; neither of them made it last year, and there were company scouts in the audience. They pushed themselves to the breaking point over the summer in hopes of making it this year.

And then there’s what Jun said, about Minghao having a crush on Soonyoung. He wants to kick himself for that. When the four of them were working on Highlight, Soonyoung and Minghao— it felt like they had some kind of _thing_. Maybe they did, maybe they didn’t. It didn’t matter; Jun felt like he was swallowing coal the entire time he was around them.

But he can’t hate Soonyoung, only envy him. Soonyoung is bright and beautiful and legitimately talented in a genuine way that Jun isn’t; his smile makes Jun’s smirk look greasy and overdone; and he’d probably be really good with Minghao. Jun needs to be prepared for that. He has to hold his heart over the precipice, anticipating the break.

\---

 **mingyu:** lolol

 **mingyu:** i made minghao watch kimi no na wa

 **mingyu:** i think he’s crying into his takeout rn?

 **me:** pics or it didn’t happen

 **mingyu:** [image]

 **mingyu:** o no he’s glaring at me time to blast

Jun hides a smile in his hands, even though he’s alone. He rolls over and continues working on his homework, and when he checks his phone next time there’s a new set of messages from Minghao.

 **minghao:** ignore what mingyu said he’s delusional

 **minghao:** objectively, kimi no na wa was pretty good

 **minghao:** meet me at the cafe at five tomorrow i need to show you something

 **me:** okay

\---

No one warned Jun that being in love with his best friend meant that he’d get bowled over _every single time_ they met. Like jumping into a cold pool over and over; there was that split second before he could ease in.

Minghao is wearing a sweater and scarf and has his hands wrapped around a mug of coffee, and Jun’s brain short-circuits on itself. He wants to hold Minghao’s hand, the sleeve of his sweater brushing against his fingers. It looks so soft.

Jun slides into the opposite side of the booth and does no such thing.

“Mingyu said you cried,” Jun says.

Minghao scowls. “I did _not_ ,” he mumbles. “You would think at this point Mingyu would know not to mess with me.”

“I know it, and I mess with you anyway,” Jun says, framing his face with his hands.

“Why do I only make friends with idiotic morons who have no sense of self-preservation,” Minghao sighs. “Anyway, that’s beside the point. I texted Soonyoung last night—” Jun can’t help it, the sheer anxiety that passes over his face. Minghao must take it the wrong way because he snaps, “about the _exhibit_. I was asking if it’d be possible for Woozi to make a tune for us.”

“You want to do an original song?” Jun says.

“Why _wouldn’t_ I want to do an original song?” Minghao says.

Jun can’t argue with that. “What did Soonyoung say?”

“He bargained and apparently Woozi will do it for fifty thousand won,” Minghao says, pulling a face. Jun cringes— that is. _So many_. Instant noodle cups. “And we write the lyrics ourselves. I— started something. Tell me what you think?”

He slides a piece of paper over, folded into an aggressively creased square. Jun opens it, and on the page is a haphazard mash of Chinese and Korean. “I got inspired off of Kimi No Na Wa,” Minghao mumbles. “That’s what this is about.”

Jun reads. “Whoa, this stuff is really good,” he comments. Minghao’s lines are like pieces of stained glass; perhaps they’re not cohesive enough to make a complete picture yet, but they’re beautiful nonetheless.  

“Thanks,” Minghao stammers. “I just—” He looks _exceedingly_ uncomfortable. “I just, I switched to Mandarin halfway through because it’s easier to think in it,” he says. “We can translate to Korean later.”

Jun nods. “That’s a good plan.” He keeps a hand on the paper and doesn’t miss the way Minghao’s eyes dart toward it like he wants to take it back.

“It’s not really a plan,” Minghao says. “I don’t really have a system for this. it’s just a lot of random crap.”

“Doesn’t feel like random crap.”

Minghao shrugs. “That’s debatable. So you like it?”

“Yeah, I do. Let’s use it.” And Jun wonders what Minghao was thinking when he wrote this but is smart enough not to ask, just uses his own interpretation and goes from there.

He thinks that maybe the song is like a letter to love and time. It’s like he’s telling his past self that it’s okay, he got into Pledis, and his dreams are being realized— but it’s also about looking into the future and wondering what might be there. Jun writes himself into the lyrics, past Jun and present Jun and future Jun, in love with dance and Minghao, just a tiny part of the world. He gets why Minghao was so awkward before. It was like Minghao was standing naked while Jun was still fully clothed.

“Okay,” Jun says finally, when they’ve finished the draft, crossed over and crumpled with both of their handwritings across the page. He circles a couple of lines. “Chorus?”

Minghao nods. “I think that should be the chorus, yeah, but I don’t know how to translate it so that it’d make sense…”

“Let’s not translate it, then,” Jun says. “Let’s just call it _My I_.”

The atmosphere is more relaxed after that as they cross out lines and arrange the verses so they tell the best story. They don’t actually talk about the lyrics, though. They’re still pretending it’s about Kimi No Na Wa.

\---

In February, Jun does not go to Hansol and Seokmin’s birthday party, but he does hear about it.

He doesn’t go because while he’s friends with Mingyu and Minghao and (sort of) Soonyoung, he doesn’t actually know Hansol and Seokmin, and he’s not really one for the friend-of-my-friend philosophy. So he stays home and rents out one of the music rooms and spends the night learning a song on the piano. It’s a pretty good time.

Mingyu had asked if he wanted party updates, and Jun had said, sure, why not, so when he opens up his phone after the piano session his inbox is barraged with messages. He allows himself to stare at the little _17_ icon and pretend it’s because he has a lot of friends, not just Mingyu and T-Mobile asking if he wants an upgrade.

 **mingyu:** seungkwan’s doing a tsunami skit this is rly funny

 **mingyu:**!! karaoke’s started. everyone’s drunk. except me and jisoo (like usual)

 **mingyu:** omg minghao’s doing backflips [video]

Oh, fuck _him._ (He doesn’t know if the him in question refers to Mingyu, Minghao, or himself.) The lighting is terrible but Jun rewatches it three times anyway before he goes back to the rest of Minghao’s texts.

 **mingyu:** im eating cake rn i’ll bring some 4 u it’s pretty good

 **mingyu:** like not as good as MY baking but still pretty damn good

 **mingyu:** omg wonwoo’s rapping plz send help

 **mingyu:** jerry… if i die… delete our incriminating chat history

 **mingyu:** alright!! time to get everyone home wish me luck

 **mingyu:** you didn’t really miss anything much

 **mingyu:** except minghao being all touchy-drunk [smirky emoji]

Jun frowns at the phone screen. “You need to _stop_ ,” he tells the empty room. The messages end there, radio silence.

 **me:** you should be a news reporter

 **me:** did you make it home okay?

No response. Mingyu’s probably asleep.

\---

 **mingyu:** yeah.

\---

Apparently Mingyu had been lying because it turns out that Jun had missed a _lot_. Granted, it’s not like Mingyu was present for this particular scene, but— technicalities.

“Soonyoung asked me out last night,” Minghao tells Jun, flat out. Fortunately, Jun’s face is hidden behind his water bottle at that time, so he’s got a few seconds to school his face into an acceptable platonic reaction.

Thank the universe for his acting lessons.

“Wow,” Jun says, smirking. “Maybe I _should’ve_ gone to the party. How’d it go down?”

“Don’t be greasy.” Minghao’s mouth flattens into a tight line, and Jun feels hot and cold all over and wishes he were anywhere else. “And you know, it went fine. He told me he liked my face and all that.”

“Romance,” Jun deadpans.

“I don’t see any flowers or sunsets in _your_ love life either,” Minghao retorts. He looks genuinely annoyed enough by that comment that Jun realizes that he’s deviated off script in his role of supposed best friend.

“Well, I mean, you’re a catch,” Jun says, wincing at the sound of the words falling from his mouth. _Don’t I know it_. “I’m not surprised. Was he like— sober? Though?”

Minghao scoffs. “Were any of us really? But he sent me this in the morning…” He tilts his phone toward Jun.

 **soon:** so have you thought about it?

“Ignore how it sounds like a shady sugar daddy proposal,” Minghao says. Jun closes his mouth and takes a deep breath. Fine. No more beating around the bush.

“Soonyoung’s a good guy,” he says, hoping his voice comes out steady. “Your wedding dance would be _amazing_. I approve.”

“We’re not getting _married_ ,” Minghao says. He blushes and fidgets with his shirt. “I don’t even know if I’m gonna say yes.”

“Oh,” is all Jun can say.

“D’ya think I should?”

Jun should _not_ get the call on this one. Obviously the answer is _no_ because he’s heavily biased, but Minghao is all nervous for once in his life and looking genuinely curious about his answer and Jun’s hands tighten into fists. It’s awful pining for someone who’s single. But it’s even worse pining for someone who’s taken, and Jun has too much respect for both Minghao and Soonyoung to let his own feelings get in the way. Not that he ever has.

(And honestly, this was going to happen sooner or later, wasn’t it? Minghao is sharp and kind and _hot_ , especially when he’s dancing. Kwon Soonyoung is a smart guy.)

“If you think he’s a good choice, go for it. You deserve it,” Jun says, smiling. It’s not his real smile though, which is crumbling somewhere behind his face, but it’ll do. “But I’ll _murder_ him if he hurts you.”

“I’ve seen you with nunchucks,” Minghao says wryly. Jun covers his face. “And I’ve got a black belt. I can do it myself.”

\---

It’s around midnight, and Jun’s lying on his bed when he gets the message.

 **minghao:** jun

 **me:** yeah

 **minghao:** i said no

Jun doesn’t know what to say to that.

\---  

Woozi sends the tune over two weeks later, something haunting and melodious and flowing, and Jun’s guilty of listening to it maybe fifty thousand times because _damn_. This Woozi kid is going to go far in life.

Minghao reports, “Mingyu listened to it and said it sounded like one of those ancient soulmate stories.”

“I can see where he’s coming from,” Jun says thoughtfully, then tacks on— “and I actually really like that concept? It’s cool.”

Minghao squints. “Actually, so do I. It’s really romantic and disgusting but it kind of works. Don’t tell Mingyu I said that, though.”

“No promises.” Jun grins, and when Minghao glares daggers at him he protests— “ _Hey_ , he gave us a start!”

“Yeah, whatever. Just— let’s go through a bunch of those soulmate stories and see if we find anything worth basing the choreo off of?”

Jun nods. He goes home that afternoon and spends a good three hours looking through online Chinese archives of dubious safety. He kind of loves the concept of soulmates, loves the idea that someone was made for him, not that he’d ever say that. Minghao seems averse to the idea of happy endings, even his own.

“Why were our ancestors so depressing?” Minghao asks when they regroup the next day in the tea shop.

“I know, right? Everyone died or ended up blind or separated until a certain phase of the moon.” Jun sighs. “I see where you get your cynicism from now.”

Minghao pointedly ignores this. “Did you find anything good, though?”

Jun smirks. “Did you?”

Minghao fiddles with his rings, looking like his intestines are forcibly being removed from his stomach right now, along with a quarter of his soul. “The— red string of fate. I liked the idea. We could do, like— a physical representation of that, some sort of dance with a ribbon connecting us…”  

Jun decides not to tease Minghao’s admittance, since Minghao’s current expression is embarrassed rather than murderous right now and Jun doesn’t want to actually make him feel bad. “That sounds awesome,” he says instead. “Let’s do it.”

\---

They sit on the cold floor of the studio underneath florescent lights, surrounded by a wall of mirrors. Minghao’s got a yellow legal pad balanced on his lap; Jun, a tacky white ribbon wound around his hands. A copy of _My I’s_ lyrics sit between them.

Minghao taps the page. “So, the choreo…” he says. “I’ll section off the components of the song, and I guess we can go from there?”

Jun shrugs. “I’ve got no better ideas.”

“This is so hard…” Minghao mumbles, banging his forehead up against the notebook. “I don’t get how Soonyoung just does this, like, every other week.”

Jun reminds himself to be a decent person and not abruptly yank the subject anywhere away from Soonyoung. “One of Pledis’s greatest mysteries,” Jun says solemnly. “I have a theory that it’s the hair. It lends him the creative energy.”

“I’d call you an idiot, but at this point I’m willing to believe anything,” Minghao laughs. He digs around in his backpack and pulls out an orange highlighter, jokingly tucking it behind his ear. “I’m Soonyoung now. Let’s do this.”

Apparently Jun’s got the maturity of a toddler because his mind _whines_. “I have an idea for the ending,” Jun says. He came up with it last night when he couldn’t sleep.

Minghao patiently waits, and Jun purses his mouth, trying to figure out the best way to explain it. “So you know how the last chorus is the my I I I I” — Minghao makes a gesture like _I get it, please stop_ — “part two times? So before it, we drop the ribbon connecting us, and then I’ll do some stuff during the first my I and you do some stuff during the second one. And then we pick the ribbon up again.”

Minghao’s face is wiped carefully blank as he considers.

“But like, we pick the ribbon up _dramatically_ ,” Jun adds, squirming. “Soulmates and all that, you know.”

Minghao finally gives a nod of approval. He jots down _drop ribbon → jun → minghao → pick up ribbon (last chorus)_ on the legal pad and says, “That’s actually really cool. Nice— job.” He chokes that last sentence out like it physically pains him.

Jun preens. “Yeah, well, it’s probably Soonyoung,” he says, to punish himself for his thoughts earlier. “Talent osmosis.”

Minghao smiles a little at that, then hums and draws boxes around the stanzas, outlining them unnecessarily dark with his pen. “So we have the ending,” he says. “Uh— give me a moment. And don’t judge.”

“You think so low of me,” Jun sighs.

Minghao ignores this. “Maybe the verses could be more interpretive? Like storytelling.”

“Okay… Go on?”

“We do like, pretty stuff with the ribbon,” Minghao says. “And fit it with the idea of the lyrics or whatever. And then when the beat picks up on the pre-chorus and chorus we do more stylistic things. It’s based more on movement.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Jun says. He takes the paper from Minghao and squints. “Now all we gotta do is actually fill in the blanks.”

Minghao says, “We’re putting a summersault in here at some point, no exceptions, so that’s one.”

Jun lets out a guttural groan. “Not all of us are rubber bands like _you_ —”

“At least I’m not asking you to do backflips like last time,” Minghao retorts, and both of them wince. That’d been in high school and Jun had nearly broken his wrist.

“Fine,” Jun relents. “Anything else?”

“... How about dabbing?”

“ _NO_.”

“It was worth a shot.”

\---

Jun isn’t going to lie; their choreography looks pretty cool. If they play their cards right, they’ll definitely make it into the end-of-the-year showcase. But currently, it’s a total wreck. _Under construction._ Duct tape and cardboard and scaffolding.

By far the most difficult part of the dance is the ribbon. It’s everywhere and nowhere at once, resulting in Jun tripping face first onto the floor or Minghao getting rug burn (ribbon burn?) on his wrists or hopelessly tangling them together. That last part wouldn’t be so bad if it didn’t make Jun’s heart beat so fast.

“I hate the second verse,” Minghao mutters, pushing his sweat-soaked hair out of his eyes. “The ribbon won’t twirl half the time.”

Jun rolls his eyes. “Excuse me? You nearly strangled me with that thing.”

“And right after that you pulled it hard enough enough to make my wrists lose circulation,” Minghao says wryly. “It’s okay. We’re both messes. Although you’re more of a mess than I am.”

 _Don’t I know it_. “The _disrespect_ ,” Jun says instead, with absolutely no force behind his words. “It’ll be fine. The showcase will be amazing. Unless the ribbon kills us first.”

“Now that you say it, I’ll make sure neither of us are dying,” Minghao says firmly. “That’s such a lame way to go. What an awful obituary.”

“ _That’s_ your concern?” Jun asks, raising an eyebrow.

“Absolutely. I’m not coming if your death isn’t cool enough… Although, you need to let me put together your funeral soundtrack, because I don’t trust your taste in music.”

“Yes, okay, you’ll have full control of the aux cord,” Jun sighs. His watch beeps. “Damn, our break is up. Let’s do the second stanza again.”

Minghao nods, his laser-focus returning full blast. They practice relentlessly for another hour before they take a break. Jun gasps, hands and knees on the floor, head ducked down between his arms. Minghao collapses next to him.

“Sometimes I regret all of my life decisions,” Jun groans, pressing his forehead to the cool and also probably highly dirty studio floor.

Minghao slides his water bottle over. His breathing is erratic but his words come out even. “At least we got the ribbon to twirl.”

Jun raises the water bottle in listless celebration. “Yay.”

Minghao punches his arm, says, “So you know the last My I? Where we’re doing our own thing? I’ve got an idea for mine. I was practicing it in the dorm and Mingyu just walks in and starts screaming.”

Jun smiles fondly. “Your eardrums still intact?”

“No. But it’s kind of a boost, you know?” Minghao says. “You gotta hang out with the enthusiastic people so that you don’t feel like such a failure.”

“You’re not a failure.”

“You’re _supposed_ to say that. And anyway, no one will convince me that I’m a success when there are people like _Kwon Soonyoung_ in the world,” Minghao declares, and Jun dips his head in agreement and squashes down the surge of relief that Minghao’s face doesn’t change at all when he says Soonyoung’s name.

\---

There is apparently some justice left in the universe because Mingyu and Wonwoo become an item. It’s a relief to see _someone_ get their act together, even if it isn’t Jun.

\---

 **mingyu:** yo i won three movie tickets in a raffle

 **me:** why are you always winning things in raffles i dont understand

 **mingyu:** im dating a bag of luck it rubs off

 **mingyu:** anyway wanna come?? me and you and wonwoo??

 **me:** excuse me are you asking me to be the trademark third wheel??

 **mingyu:** …no, ur my friend, im not going to exclude u

Right. That’s a thing. He guiltily flash backs to that time in high school when he was dating Jinae. He’d never even _tried_ to introduce her to Minghao.

 **me:** yeah sure i’ll come

So now Jun is standing in front of the movie theater, hands in his pockets. Snowflakes fall to the ground and float away without a sound. He’s really cold. Wonwoo and Mingyu come ten minutes later, and they don’t arrive together but somehow manage to show up at the exact same time. Jun’s heart gives a small twinge, a single string plucked on a guitar. Because they’re not even holding hands but they just _fit_ , and Jun wants that.

“Hi,” Jun says, smiling. “I’m Jun.”

“Wonwoo.” Wonwoo’s eyes are a little nervous. He’s got his hands fisted in his pockets and his scarf wrapped around him like protective gear.

“Trust me, I know,” Jun says dryly, “Mingyu wouldn’t shut up about you.”

It’s amusing, how fast both of their cheeks turn red. Wonwoo doesn’t say anything to that, and Mingyu says, “Minghao embarrasses me enough, not you too!”

Jun grins. “You’re so _easy_ , though.”

Mingyu shakes his head. “This is the _last_ time I share my cookies with you.”

Jun’s eyes widen, and he wraps his arms around Mingyu. “Please forgive me,” he says, laughing, and Wonwoo watches the exchange silently with a small smile on his mouth.

“Let’s go inside, I’m about to freeze my face off,” Mingyu says. He steals Wonwoo’s scarf (gross) and they head inside. They’re immediately blasted by the smell of popcorn, because capitalism does not give anyone a break, and Jun groans.

“Why does a bottle of water cost three thousand won,” Jun mutters. “A bottle of water should not cost three thousand won. We’re in _college_.”

“I got you all covered,” Mingyu says, and discreetly opens up his jacket to show that he’s got, like, seven packs of candy scotch-taped to the inside of his coat. Jun gapes.

“Holy crap.”

“So _don’t_ buy me anything,” Mingyu tells Wonwoo sternly.

“Buy him something,” Jun whispers to Wonwoo. He might as well have some fun with this. It’s actually hilarious how much Wonwoo seems to trust his opinion; he goes into line and buys one of those giant packs of popcorn that has, like, a _lot_ of butter.

Mingyu’s eyes sparkle.

“So what movie are we watching?” Jun asks. “You never said.”

Mingyu frowns. “Actually, I don’t know myself.” Jun eyes Wonwoo like _can you believe this kid_? Wonwoo returns the look for a second until he remembers he doesn’t know Jun and immediately averts his eyes. “I— think it’s horror? Yeah, it’s horror.” Mingyu’s face turns pale.

“Oh my god,” Jun cackles. “You’re so screwed.”

“I _am_ screwed,” Mingyu reiterates, hiding his face in his hands. “Why am I so stupid?”

“I can explain to you all the special effects later,” Wonwoo says softly.

“That doesn’t help when there’s blood all over the screen!”

“Just close your eyes during the entire duration of the movie,” Jun suggests, stealing a handful of popcorn from the box that Mingyu’s holding.

Mingyu pouts. “Then what’s the point of coming?”

“You tell me, I could be at home eating cereal right now,” Wonwoo says, his voice quiet but fond. Mingyu had said that Wonwoo was really reticent around people he didn’t know that well, and even though Wonwoo hadn’t said many words directly to Jun, it was clear the guy was trying.

Mingyu huffs. “Whatever, let’s just get this over with.” They go in while the trailers are still playing, but Mingyu’s worked himself up to the point that he’s got his eyes covered before the movie even starts, so when he hears a scream he also lets out a shriek.

“Mingyu,” Jun says, exasperated, “that was a trailer for the next minions movie.”

Mingyu peeks out from between his fingers, embarrassed. “Oh.”

The movie itself is pretty bad. Mingyu probably annoys every other movie-goer by being the human equivalent of a terrified giraffe, and Jun and Wonwoo let out a simultaneous groan at a particularly obvious plot twist. Jun feels a moment of kinship.

\---

“That was _terrifying_ ,” Mingyu says, walking out. “And I didn’t even see it.”

“That was objectively awful,” Wonwoo says. “The blood looked like Heinz ketchup.”

Mingyu looks like he’s going to faint. “I hate you. I’m going to the bathroom now, don’t leave without me,” he says, and walks off.

Jun leans over to take a handful of popcorn from the mostly emptied bucket. It’s kind of stale and the butter’s all settled. “This is disgusting,” Jun says. “I love it.”

Wonwoo looks exceedingly awkward without the neutralizing presence of Mingyu there to balance them out. “Thanks for telling me to buy the popcorn, I’m clueless,” he finally says, after several moments of silence that are only punctuated by Jun’s chewing.

Jun waves a dismissive hand, shoving more popcorn into his mouth. He’s a dancer and he’s _so_ going to regret this tomorrow. “No problem. I’m his ex so I can tell you right now that he loves all that romantic crap.”

Wonwoo drops the popcorn on the ground, awkwardness completely forgotten in light of this new information. “Wait, you’re his _ex,_ ” he says, sounding strangled.

“...Um, yeah. He didn’t tell you?”

“ _NO_ ,” Wonwoo shouts, and Jun wants to laugh. Because yeah he’s Mingyu’s ex but there was nothing; however, watching Wonwoo freak out is just a _little_ bit funny.

“We only dated for two weeks as a trial, and then he broke up with me because he didn’t actually like me and I liked— someone else,” Jun says, grimacing. “He _really_ likes you, though, so don’t mess this up.”

Wonwoo crouches on the ground, picking the popcorn off, and goes to deposit it in the nearest trash can. Jun watches regretfully. “I know that. Mingyu’s roommate threatened to castrate me if I did.”

Jun forces himself to keep a straight face. “Minghao?” Wonwoo nods. Jun bites down a grin. “Yeah, he will,” Jun says cheerfully. “And so will I.”

Mingyu comes back from the bathroom. “You threatening Wonwoo?”

“Why are all of your friends deadass terrifying?” Wonwoo asks, and Mingyu laughs.

Jun swivels. “The real question is, why didn’t you tell Wonwoo I was your ex?”

Mingyu looks thoughtful. “Oh yeah, I forgot us dating was a thing.”  

“You shouldn’t have let Jun go,” Wonwoo says, smirking, and Mingyu gapes. “You’re never going to find anyone that pretty ever again.”

“Aw, thanks,” Jun says, batting his eyelashes.

“And here Jun thought _he_ was going to be the third wheel,” Mingyu mutters. “I hate both of you. So much.”

\---

Jun wakes up the next morning to a fully operating group chat with him, Wonwoo, and Mingyu. Surprisingly, they end up using it quite a bit.

Most of it ends up them just ranting to each other about school and food and all the random aspects of the universe, and it’s nice. Jun tells them how _My I_ is going, and Mingyu updates them on his pregnant advertising professor. The other one percent of it is slip-ups: Wonwoo and Mingyu forgetting they’re not on private chat (Jun was scarred for life that one time) and Jun forgetting that Wonwoo doesn’t actually know that he likes Minghao, so he started whining about Minghao in his ripped jeans with absolutely no context. Mingyu finds that absolutely hilarious.

 **jun:** im sorry please ignore me

 **jun:** that’s a command i’ll kill you if you ever bring this up again

 **wonwoo:** both of you are really terrifying. i’m a little scared of you guys getting together.

 **mingyu:** it’s okay just distract minghao with puppies and jun with minghao

 **me:** i am perpetually distracted by minghao it’s bad

 **me:** but don’t push your luck wonwoo ;0

 **mingyu:** tf is that emoji

 **me:** … i actually have no idea

The end of the year rapidly approaches with its storm of finals and evaluations. His and Minghao’s choreography finally comes together, and it looks amazing. And it’s nice, the group chat, although Jun doesn’t say that in words. He’s grateful.

\---

It’s past midnight and Jun is tired.

He’s got a textbook balanced on his lap, clutching a mug of tea that’s long since lost its warmth. Minghao is sprawled out on the bed next to him, face down in his syllabus.

He nudges Minghao’s side. “Hey. Wake up.”

Minghao peels his face off his textbook and sends Jun an exhausted glare, his eyes underlined by deep purple circles. “Please leave me alone.”

Jun sighs. “I can’t let you fall into a coma before the showcase.” _If we make it in…_

“A coma sounds good right now,” Minghao mumbles. “Order me one of those next time we stop at the bakery?”

Jun groans and falls over sideways onto the mattress. Minghao uncaps his highlighter and listlessly highlights a couple lines in his textbook. A ping reverberates from somewhere on the bedside cabinet, and Minghao moves aside several plastic cups and a raffle keychain to reach his phone. He types something and throws it back down with an annoyed huff.

“Mingyu’s staying at Wonwoo’s for the night.”

“Huh,” Jun says. “Wonder what they’re doing over there.” A few pictures of flash across Jun’s mind like a film strip: Mingyu whining over his studies, Wonwoo desperately trying to get him back on track, them drinking tea and cuddling. And then the connotation of his statement hits him.

“Oh my god,” Mingyu says. His eyes are wide and mildly traumatized. “ _Why_ would you _wonder_ about that?”

“I forgot they were— you know what, not _all_ of our minds are down in the gutter!”

“You can make a sex joke out of a particularly good-looking ceiling fan so don’t you _dare_ lecture me having a dirty mind,” Minghao snorts. “At least I won’t be able to sleep now, so thanks for that.”

Jun yawns, and suddenly it hits him that it’s past two and both of them are sleep deprived and their level of productivity has decayed to almost nothing. “I think we should stop,” Jun says.

Minghao pulls a face. He’s disciplined, has always been, perfectly capable of pushing himself to limits that aren’t necessarily healthy. “I still need to review five more pages,” he says stubbornly.

“You’re not going to comprehend any of them,” Jun says, just as stubbornly, and Minghao shapes his mouth into a tired pout. “Come on. You look like crap.”

“Thanks,” Minghao deadpans. He sighs, plays with the fabric of his sweatshirt. “I’ll stop now, but only if you sing for me?”

It’s an odd request, one that Minghao wouldn’t make in his right mind. Jun isn’t known for his voice; it’s not bad, definitely, but he’s a little bit uncomfortable sharing it. Especially since he knows that what Minghao means is for him to sing in Mandarin.

“Sure,” he says.

 _Whipped_.

They’re alone in the room and it’s nighttime and Mingyu and Wonwoo are probably kissing right now and Jun messes up. He starts singing this song that he heard a while back on this Chinese singing competition, a quiet professing of unrequited love. It falls from his mouth a little too readily.

“Oh honey / **I keep thinking about you and me** **/ can’t control the pace in which my heart beats / it’s hard to breathe** ,” he swallows, looks at where Minghao is lying curled up on the bed, listening. There’s no reaction, so he continues. “Tonight / **we’ll waste another conversation** / **I’ll tuck my expectations way out of sight** …”  

By the time the last notes fade out, Minghao seems to be asleep. Jun picks up his phone and opens up the group chat.

 **me:** guys

 **mingyu:** jun!! thank the universe you’re here!!

 **wonwoo:** he just doesn’t want to study.

(So it turns out they _weren’t_ doing anything. Seriously, Minghao.)

 **me:** i think i accidentally just sang a chinese love song to minghao

 **mingyu:** wh

 **mingyu:** is this like accidentally building a shelf

 **me:** are you meming my mistake i cannot believe

 **wonwoo:** i apologize for him. he’s tired.

 **me:** gnight guys (thanks wonwoo) (get some sleep, mingyu)

Jun bites his mouth and tucks his phone into his back pocket. He might as well go back to his dorm now, it’s not like he’s got a reason to stay. He throws a blanket over Minghao and heads out.

\---

They make it out of finals alive and into the showcase. Of course they do.

So do Soonyoung and Chan. Jun feels a weird sense of pride for both of them— it’s nice to see their unofficial _Highlight_ team all make it in. His happiness for Soonyoung is maybe a little less pure than it is for Chan, but no matter.

Opening night dawns warm and windy, the auditorium stuffed to the brim. Jun is maybe just a little terrified; he loves the spotlight, loves the feeling of center stage, but until he actually gets up there it’s a free-for-all for his nerves to attack him with doubts.

“There we go,” Jeonghan says, finishing up Jun’s makeup. “You have a very nice face. It was fun working on it.”

Jun is very much in love with Minghao, but he’s a little starstruck by Jeonghan all the same, because Jeonghan is extremely beautiful and says everything like he’s flirting but also like he’s making a scientific observation. Jun can never be on that level. “Um. Thanks. You— you too.”

Jeonghan rolls his eyes and says, “I hope you dance better than you flirt.” Jun blushes, wants to say that he’s _very_ good at flirting— it’s just Jeonghan is something else— but then Jeonghan pushes him out of the chair. “Go kill out there, pretty boy.”

Jun turns his way out into the hallways to walk to backstage. There’s probably another thirty minutes until their act, and Jun takes deep breaths, runs the choreography through his mind one last time. It’s muscle memory by now, he reminds himself. He won’t fail. _But what if you do_?

Then Minghao rounds the corner and all coherent thought promptly flies out of his head.

Minghao has style. Jun is aware of this— even his most casual of clothes are subtly put-together, designed to showcase his frame in some way or another, and Jun knew what his costume was going to look like, since they’ve had rehearsals. But Minghao’s got on his stage makeup and the full effect is _killer_ . His shirt is bright crimson and sets off the gold of his skin, and well— his _pants._ Those _pants_. They’re impossibly tight, making his legs look miles long, and they’re ripped all around the knees to show stripes of bare skin. It’s his usual holey jeans amplified ten thousand.

It’s very, very hard to breathe.

“Jeonghan did a number on you,” Minghao muses, coming closer. “He’s really good.”

 _Think_. “He had good material to work with,” Jun scrambles. “You look amazing.” Understatement of the century, but Minghao wouldn’t accept anything flashier.

Minghao shrugs. He tugs at the shirt with an uneasy expression on his face. “This feels like less of a costume and more of a war strategy, but you know—”

“It’s a weapon, yeah,” Jun says unthinkingly

“Shut up,” Minghao mumbles. “I just hope the audience likes it.”

“I think they will,” Jun says, trying to turn his thoughts into coherent sentences. “Let’s kill out there.” He holds out his fist.

Minghao bumps it. “Hell yeah.”

Jun can barely walk onto the stage, but when he does, it’s like everything else falls away, and the music starts and he moves easy as anything. He and Minghao are a single, deadly set, and in that moment, they’re exactly equal. Minghao’s gaze is dark and smoldering and Jun matches it with an intensity of his own, the ribbon whirling between them like it’s been there their entire lives. When the last note dies out and he and Minghao pick up the ribbon, the audience roars, and Jun bows down into the thunderous din.

\---

Jun feels like he’s flying.

They all crowd into the hallways after, and Jun receives dozens of _you were amazings_ and _whoa you guys were really good_ , and Mingyu and Wonwoo show up with bouquets of flowers in their hands and Jun is really happy.

Minghao is next to him and the smile on his face is brighter than the ceiling lights.

Jun spots Chan drowning in the flood of people and pushes his way over to him.

“Chan!” Jun yells, and Chan turns around. “You were amazing up there!”

Chan’s eyes are _actually_ shining, and Jun wrestles him into a sweaty hug and ruffles his hair. “Thank you,” Chan responds, voice muffled by Jun’s chest. “You and Minghao’s dance was the coolest thing I’ve ever seen. You looked like idols!”

Everything is bright and Jun can’t stop grinning. Minghao comes over and he and Chan scream about everyone’s acts, and they receive a bunch more compliments and it takes them maybe ten minutes to finally calm down somewhat. “I think we’re going to the bakery now,” Chan says, gesturing to the door. “Have any of you seen Soonyoung?”

“He was here a minute ago?” Minghao says, swivelling. “I tried to congratulate him but I don’t think he heard me…” Soonyoung was swarmed after the showcase. His act, _Hurricane_ , had been one of the highlights of the entire exhibit.

“Let’s go look for him,” Jun says, unwitting, and they set off into the hallway. The dance team is going to head over to the nearby bakery soon, and Soonyoung deserves a heads-up.

Jun’s the one who sees him first two turns down, on the outskirts of the commotion. The fiery hair is unmistakable. He’s in one of the little classroom nooks and he’s kissing someone. They’re so closely intertwined that Jun can’t tell where orange stops and yellow begins. A pair of highlighters. The fruits section of the grocery store.

Jun comes down from his high real fast. He takes an unconscious step forward, but a hand wraps around his wrist and pulls him back.

“Leave them alone,” Minghao orders. His face is wiped carefully blank.

“But Soonyoung—”

“Has wanted this since forever and deserves this,” Minghao finishes. Chan joins them,  and Minghao immediately slaps a hand over Chan’s eyes, calmly continuing his speech. “I’m really happy for them.”

“What’s happening?” Chan asks, wrestling Minghao’s hand off his face. When he sees the spectacle, he quietly moves Minghao’s arm over his eyes again. “ _Whoa._ ”

“I think this constitutes as voyeurism, so let’s go,” Minghao snaps, and yanks both of them out the hallway. “We’ve got a bakery to go to.”

\---

If someone asked Jun what exactly happened at the bakery, he wouldn’t be able to answer. The entire thing is a blur, some kind of fucked-up fever dream.

He’s thinking about Soonyoung pressed up against the wall and he’s so mad, this burning red-hot anger that makes his blood boil and head spin; was Minghao just a _game_ to him when he asked him out?

But Jun’s not allowed to leave just yet. There’s the residue excitement from the showcase; Jun has to stay in the bakery with his skin-tight costume chafing his skin, drowning in the hectic chatter that surrounds him on four sides. There are people who want to tell him he did awesome and people who want to flirt with him under the guise of telling him he did awesome and Minghao—

Minghao is just sitting there, eating his pie and smiling warmly at everyone around him. He’s in those pants and is apparently incapable of eating pie like a normal person, licking whipped cream off his fingers and taking bites off his fork with a mouth as red and seductive as his shirt. Or maybe that’s just Jun.

There’s a girl flirting with Minghao right now. Jun tears his eyes away. And suddenly he doesn’t care anymore, just needs to get out. He excuses himself and walks out the door, stepping into the parking lot and cool summer night.

\---

It’s midnight when people start filing out of the bakery, the air chilly and the pavements lit up by streetlights. Jun’s sitting on the curb of the parking lot, watching a meme video that Wonwoo had sent to the group chat. (Mingyu had introduced him to the dank corner of the internet and the results were interesting, to say the least.)

He feels empty. Sad, masquerading around in a pretty costume that isn’t really his. A lone car whizzes past, headlights momentarily blinding him.

“Hey,” Minghao says, sitting next to him on the curb, voice tight.

“Fancy seeing you here.” Jun puts down his phone. “Everyone gone?”

“Yeah,” Minghao says. “... Dude, what’s up? You left halfway through.”

Jun shrugs. “Nothing really. Just needed some air.” He doesn’t know how to explain his fucked-up thought process to Minghao.

“Okay…” Minghao says, clearly not believing. “Come on, let’s go home.”

Jun nods, pulling himself up from the curb, and starts walking. Minghao makes awkward attempts at conversation, and Jun gives half-hearted responses to everything until Minghao asks, “What’s _with_ you?”

He sounds annoyed, with concern laced underneath. Jun grinds his teeth. “ _Nothing_.”

“Bullshit,” Minghao says, exasperated.

“I’m pissed off at Soonyoung,” Jun spits out. It’s nowhere close to the real answer but it’s somewhere in that ballpark, and it’s good enough. Besides, it’s easier to be angry than sad. He sounds petty and childish and there’s a twisted sense of satisfaction when something dark flickers in Minghao’s eyes.

“Why?” Minghao snaps. “It’s not like he cheated on me or anything. _I_ turned him down. He’s at liberty to kiss who he wants.”

Jun averts his eyes. “Yeah, _okay_. He asked you out as a rebound, then.”

“You don’t know the half of it. And it’s not _your_ love life,” Minghao retorts, and something in Jun’s chest snaps. “I don’t— I’ve never done this shit before, alright? So _you_ don’t get to judge when you’ve had like, five one-night stands and everyone in the damn school is in love with you.”

His words rain heavy and hard like bullets and Jun can’t say anything to that, swimming in the heavy silence. A minute passes before Minghao says, quietly, “Sorry. That was out of line.”

“I just don’t want to— you deserve the best, you know?” Jun says. He doesn’t even know what he’s saying. “Like someone should ask you out because they’re in love with you and not for any other reason. I don’t know. This is stupid.”

“Get real, Jun,” Minghao says, but there’s no bite behind his words. He sounds tired. “We all know it’s too late for that.”

“No,” Jun says, voice a thin whisper. “That’s not true.”

Minghao rakes a hand through his hair, effectively ruining his stage styling. He takes a deep breath like he’s about to dive off a cliff, run a marathon, jump off an airplane.

“You wanna know what actually happened the night Soonyoung asked me out? We were both drunk, and he was crying because Jihoon had rejected him.”

Jun says nothing.

“And I was drunk so I told him what I’d never told anyone, not even Mingyu,” Minghao says. His voice is steadfast but his entire body is shaking, all that metal armor cracking into pieces and shattering like glass. “And you know what I told him?"

Jun feels like all the breath is being knocked out of him, and Minghao looks like he’s going to hyperventilate soon but plows on nonetheless. 

“I said I’d been trying to get you to look at me for years and you never did. And he said, since we were both fucking losers, we might as well give it a try. I thought later that I should have said yes. But you know, he’s with Jihoon now. So I don’t regret it. At least one of us gets the guy.”

Minghao’s mouth is set in a tight, hard line, and the entire world basically tilts off its axis and spins off its place in the galaxy. Jun feels like he’s falling, falling, both of them splintering into pieces and melting onto the sidewalk. “You—”

“Yes, I like you, it’s mainstream and pathetic,” Minghao sighs, although his apathetic tone is ruined by how badly he’s shaking. “Please just reject me quickly and then pretend this never happened. It’s the least you could do.”

Jun’s heart thumps in syncopated rhythm and his breath comes out in erratic intervals. It’s late and he wants to laugh because rejection isn’t even a _possibility,_ not when he’s so far gone he can’t even see straight, not when he’s in so deep he can’t even remember what the ground looks like.

“I—” Jun says. “What makes you think I’d _reject_ you? I’ve been in love with you for like, an entire year. Probably more.”

Minghao’s expression slackens. “Wait. What. Um.” He shakes his head. “Okay. Just— let me wrap my head around that.”

Jun’s got the feeling like he did when he got his acceptance letter from Pledis, like the whole world had opened up in front of him, wide and vast and breathtaking. “Literally my entire chat history with Mingyu is just me talking about you,” he says, laughing. “Dude.”

Minghao plays with his jacket strings. “We’re both stupid. But you know. What now? This entire conversation makes me want to throw myself off a cliff.”

“Don’t, we just got things semi-figured out,” Jun says. He probably sounds dazed and seventeen different kinds of lovestruck and a car could fall on top of him right now and he wouldn’t even register it.

Minghao’s standing there with his eyes wide-open and fearless and Jun doesn’t think, just leans in, and Minghao jolts back at first but then meets him halfway because Xu Minghao has never been one to back down from a challenge.

The entire thing is slightly clumsy. Minghao kisses hesitant but determined, like he’s trying to learn a new dance sequence. His mouth is very soft and his fingers burn from where they’re gripped around Jun’s shirt. And in that moment Jun isn’t Moon Joonhwi or Wen Junhui, he’s just Jun in his smudged stage makeup kissing the boy he loves on the sidewalk and that’s okay. His knees seem to have forgotten their purpose as joints and every atom in his body hums, electrons whirling along their shells and threatening to fly clean off.

“I have no idea what I’m doing,” Minghao warns, when he pulls away, fighting back a smile. “You’re gonna have to put up with that.”

Jun doesn’t even try to prevent the grin on his face. “What makes you think I’m any different?”

\---

“I bet,” Jun says to Wonwoo, “that in three hours it’ll be all over campus that we had a foursome right here in the arcade.”

He, Minghao, Wonwoo, and Mingyu are on a double date. It’s a concept that Jun’s lowkey wanted ever since the beginning of the year, and even though Minghao had called the entire thing cliche and stupid there was a small smile on his face that showed that yeah, he liked the idea too.

Wonwoo pushes up his glasses. “No, we coordinated an entire orgy,” which makes Jun laugh.

Mingyu and Minghao are currently engaged in a fierce and petty DDR competition. It’s clear that Minghao is winning by a large margin; when the scores come out, his points are at least twofold that of Mingyu’s, who staggers off of the dance pad and groans.

“There are _only four arrows_ ,” he whines, “why is this so hard?”

Jun pats him on the back. “It’s okay, Minghao’s just unfairly good at everything,” and Mingyu mutters a heartfelt _amen_.

“Wanna verse me?” Minghao asks Jun, eyes gleaming. He’d set the high score for the last song, and Jun already knows he’s going down, but he steps up anyway.

“Avenge me!” Mingyu calls.

“You’re gonna _lose_ , punk,” Jun tells Minghao, making an overly macho gesture with his arms. His jacket falls off of his shoulder, and he hastily shrugs it back up.

Minghao smirks. “In your dreams.”

Jun loses, not as badly as Mingyu, but still by a wide margin. But it’s fine. He’s not anything anymore: not a wheel, a consolation prize, a player. He’s not fighting to figure out who he is or caught between the ledge of yesterday and tomorrow. Right now, he’s just him. He’s just Jun. 


End file.
